Ana Behibak Habibi
by neechan100
Summary: “Set cracked the table with his fist, cursing. Here was the answer: He could either lose her or his family; he could either save Egypt or destroy it. This was the price everything came down to, and nothing less.” SetoxKisara, but more complex.............
1. Prospectus

**Disclaimer:** I do not own YuGiOh, the property of Kazuki Takahashi and rightful publishers.

Everything non-canon will be explained, and as a heads up, I will incorporate some historical info but may not be accurate to the letter. If you see any outstanding mistakes, please leave a review. Every chapter has a preview, although these COULD be subject to change as well. That said, there's nothing left to do but read, enjoy...(and review! :)

**---**

**PROSPECTUS**

**---**

_21__st__ century_

_Domino, Japan_

Ishizu touched the hieroglyphs etched in the stone tablet with her tender hands, as though some sappy emotion were tied to every picture beneath her fingers as well as beneath Kaiba's understanding. He watched her impatiently, considering the load of shit she had just conveyed to him. What idiot did she take him for? Hell, even an idiot wouldn't buy the past-life nonsense she (and maybe her brother, who was also off his rocker) concocted. Nevertheless, something kept his feet rooted in the gallery and his intense gaze on the crumbling Ancient Egyptian artifact she was so strangely caressing...

"Do you plan on wasting more of my time with your rubbish, Ishtar?" he demanded sharply, losing patience with this woman every second. "You're about to see me walk out that door in five seconds. One--two--"

"_Will you open your eyes_?" she retorted. "You have no patience…"

"Feh. The same way you have no practical judgment."

Ishizu gave him a sharp glare. "Do you think it was an _accident_ that you found the Blue Eyes White Dragon cards? Do you even know the history behind them, or do you think they just rolled off a printing press?"

Like a typical businessman or politician, he straightened his coat and returned with a sharp return: "How I came by them is none of your damn business, Ishtar."

She pushed back her thick black hair, hardly able to believe that she coexisted in a long-past lifetime with his eternally rigid personality. Well, it was time for Mr. Kaiba to be pushed. "Here is your proof, under the picture of the Blue Eyes White Dragon," she said, pointing at a row of hieroglyphs, and read the Ancient Egyptian pronunciation. "In Arabic: _ana behibak, habibi_. Japanese: I love you, darling. Message from a female to a male."

Kaiba raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Is that supposed to mean anything to me?"

---

_5,000 Years Ago_

_Memphis, Egypt_

One of the hourglasses lined along the High Priest's desk had been empty since the afternoon, and the long shadows cast along all sundials in the capital meant that the day was almost over. Set leaned over the prospectus he was writing for the Pharaoh. He had spent three hours on it thus far, and more time holding his dripping pen above the inkwell than writing. The document had to be clear enough for His Majesty to have an idea of Set's plans, but vague enough so that he would _only _have an idea.

His concentration was interrupted by high-pitched giggles down the hall. Just as he was about to shout at the young page to keep quiet, the pest entered the study and hung its stringy brown arms around his neck and shoulders.

"Gotchya!"

Set rose from his seat and whirled Ma'at, his three-year-old daughter, in the air so fast that she shrieked in laughter.

"_Wowww_, I almost reached the ceiling!" she cried.

"You mean _I_ almost brought you to the ceiling," Set corrected her. He tossed her up again and again, and she continued to laugh mirthfully as her tightly-curled cinnamon-brown hair bounced across her lively face. His papyrus roll, inkwell and pen lay idle; he forgot the layers of tomes and scrolls waiting for him later; suddenly his austere center of academic study was put on hold, forgotten as though Set had never begun it.

Neither he nor Ma'at heard the first few gentle raps on the door; after a few polite attempts, his wife Antigone showed herself in. "I suppose I'm not interrupting?" she asked, beaming.

"No, not at all." Set kissed her forehead, which barely reached his shoulder. He balanced Ma'at on one arm. "This one's already taken care of that."

Antigone winked at her daughter, who grinned puckishly. His wife was striking in both appearance and personality. Although she wasn't very educated, intelligence lay in her large, kohl-rimmed black eyes and under an abundance of tight honey-blonde curls, which contrasted sensually with her amber-brown complexion. She articulated her wit and expressiveness with the pert chin, full lips and full cheeks that Egyptians prized. And years after retiring from a career was a court dancer, she still had the grace and confidence of a dancer, as well as the voluptuousness to carry it all.

She said, "I was going to interrupt anyway. Supper is about to begin, and it's sundown already." She pointed at his window, which barely let in enough light for him to work. He had been in the study since dawn. "Have you even stopped to take a proper meal today?"

No, he'd only eaten for a small meal after this afternoon's sacrifice. He sighed. There were times when his duties were dull, requiring little more than his presence at formal events, a few words to his master the Pharaoh and the small, daily religious ceremonies. But in times crisis (well, this situation was not yet a "crisis") he could be kept up round the clock in his study or the laboratory, for his master's sake (as well as for his own gain).

"I ate a little."

"But not enough…"

"I know, I know," he said so he wouldn't hear a fuss.

"Are you joining us for supper, at least…?"

He glanced at the work he'd left at the desk and began, "Well, I planned to continue for a few more hours--" but she hooked her finger on his tunic, tugged and insisted: "It's only an hour of your time, you haven't eaten and we haven't seen you much today--"

"All right, woman. You don't have to pull my arm."

_What a fuss_, he complained to himself. But Antigone beamed; he knew she was happier to settle the matter on her terms than to see his hunger satisfied. Hell, their marriage was settled on _her_ terms. Set could hardly believe that he threw out a politically-advantageous marriage to marry a court-dancer that refused to have anything to do with him unless he demonstrated his genuineness _and_ commitment. Four years later, he had long moved past offending Princess Calista and her Greek city-state to the point that they severed diplomatic ties with Egypt. His family was worth more to him than the Nile.

"I'm hungry," Ma'at complained.

"Let's eat then," Set said.

The dining hall was lit with a combination of candles and twilight that cast a strange glow on the chamber's potted palms, generous dinner table and caramel marble floor. The glowing candelabras mingled with the soft twig light, which cast a strange glow on the potted palms, Lady attendants opened the dishes. Set ate a handful of dates, falafel, white rolls, small desert birds on a roast skewer, and cakes dripping with honey.

After supper Antigone's maid put Ma'at to bed, and Antigone suggested she and Set also retire. He relented again. They drank wine on the balcony's cushioned chaise longue. The alcohol had a drowsing effect. Set rose from the chaise longue and rubbed his head.

"Tired?" Antigone yawned. "I'm about to go to bed…"

"Yes, but I still have some work left," he said, remembering the prospectus.

"_Hmmm_." She went back inside the chamber and blew out the candles. He heard her unlock her tunic clasps, then climb into bed. "Don't stay up too late again."

Set placed his silver wine cup next to the chaise longue, where the maids would tidy up later. He went back inside, stood over his wife, and stroked her head. Her eyes opened slowly. Her fingers caressed his wrist.

"Forgive my negligence," he said quietly.

"Set. I know you have your duties," she whispered. "I understand. But please, if you can, put aside a night in the month so we may see more of you. _Hmm_?"

He nodded. "At this point I can make no promises, I will have to see what I can do…. Have you any ideas in mind?"

"Well, the King's Great Wife is presenting the Royal Zoological Collection soon, so…that would be nice for all of us to visit. And the new Athenian Theatre has many interesting shows coming up…"

"Since when did the capital have a Greek Theatre? Is it truly Greek?"

"Well," she said, smiling, "it is modeled after Greek _style_. From what I hear, Egyptians have taken more liberty with costume design and naming Greek deities as Egyptian ones, and of course ladies are allowed to attend the comedies." Antigone yawned, and closed her eyes.

"Very well. I will see. If you can find a play I'd like, that would be good."

She sighed, "That would please me, My Lord."

Set returned to his study and after lighting a candle reorganized his thoughts and plans.

The only way to guarantee the Thief King's defeat before anyone else did was to beat the rogue at his own vile, base game: find an all-powerful Ka. That would be like finding a fertile bloom in the barren desert, a bloom difficult enough to find, let alone harness before the powerful Ka disappeared in minutes (if not seconds). It was only a few minutes before he was satisfied with his plan, written as vaguely as he could convey.

_I should not worry this much_, Set credited himself. _Atem will approve my measures; he has great trust in me. Besides, His Majesty has little time to monitor my course of action, and he has a late start. _He rolled the papyrus and placed it in a polished cedarwood case. He was now unable to remember why he fussed about the stupid thing when he sent scavengers to look for specimins already, without His Majesty's official approval. Set latched the case's clasp. His dishonesty was for the good of the kingdom as much as his own power.

A slight smirk curved Set's lips as he blew out the candle and went back to his bedchamber.

---

Chapter 2 Preview:

_She navigated between the crush of people, avoiding eye contact with the putrid states passerbys gave her, but none bothered her. Her heart thundered in her chest. A few more minutes, and she would be easily spotted by law enforcement, who would make the end of her. She had to find the alleys, but she was lost in the crowds and coudln't get away._

_Suddenly a rough hand seized the back of her collar. "Help--!" she cried out, but the attacker violently jerked her back into his sturdy legs. Disgruntled pedestrians cursed the brute, whose grip kept her completely restrained more out of fear than strength. She whimpered._

_"Satis! Take a look!" he shouted. "Hey! Shut up you," he snapped._

_The young woman squeezed her eyes shut in terror, while Alexander waved at Satis, who pushed past people and stumbled forward, out of breath. __"What is it?" he panted._

_"Look what we have here," Alexander said with amusement. "An albino."_

_As the young woman expected from a typical Egyptian, Satis' face contorted in digust and he __raised his shawl to his face as though to protect himself from disease. "Revolting!"_

_But his Greek friend didn't have the same aversion to her cursed kind. Alexander cuffed her collar with one fist and with the free hand jerked her bare forearm up. Satis took a precautionary step back, but Alexander noted, "A runaway slave, it seems. She's a specimin worth noting.... Let's haul her in."_

_"Are you MAD?!" Satis screamed._

_"She looks okay to me," Alexander said._

_"An albino? It is a cursed thing here. Whoever bought her must have been a starving peasant, because nobody wants to incur that kind of misfortune upon oneself. I'd rather drown myself than touch that thing."_

Stay tuned...


	2. Ka

"_Not only do silver or trimmed violet wane_

_But you too fade together with them/_

_Into earth, into smoke, into powder, into shadow, into nothing." __--Soneto CLXVI, __Luis de Argote y Góngora_

_---_

**_Ka_**

_---_

_Two Weeks Later_

"_Seto_?"

Set opened his eyes at her voiced command and saw nothing but darkness in his dream. The air was frigid. But almost immediately after voicing his discomfort, Set heard the voice again, and a tiny white pinprick shot in the lightless surroundings. The pinprick expanded in a thin chain small enough to pass through a needle's eye, brightening as it coiled around his right wrist, forearm, and fingers. He heard her voice indistinctly again. He anticipated something else, but as soon as everything began to clear his mind was pulled out of the darkness…

…and into the dim morning light, into consciousness. He was still in bed.

"Hey, Seto." Antigone murmured against his ear. "Don't you have your lecture this morning?"

He regularly taught fifty of the capital's best aspiring (as in wannabe) scholars at dawn. The sun hadn't fully risen yet, but he had little time to prepare himself. Before heading to the bath, Set closed the curtains to the balcony, which had no doubt opened the draft that made him feel cold in his dream.

---

From his lofty view on a sparkling white balcony overlooking the capital, a cluster of royal palm trees and the Nile beside, Set could not see the activity coursing through the city's canal-like streets and back alleys. One back alley was laid high with garbage so putrid few rats ventured to steal bits of moldy breadcrumbs. The locals called it Piss Alley, as even the lowliest Egyptian was too clean to do more than relive himself here, which was why the young woman felt safer huddled between the trash than out in the open.

Three nights ago the young woman picked the lock on her shackles, tiptoed around her masters' sleeping children, climbed to the roof and jumped across to neighboring roofs until she found a ladder to climb down and a place to hide. She left with nothing more than her tunic on her back and a sketchy plan in her head, but the escape was so exhilarating: _I'm finally free_! She thought, leaping across another roof with the enthusiasm of a child. _The gods have been listening to me after all_! _I'm free_!

Or so she thought.

Freedom was almost unbearable now. The young woman regretted leaving impulsively. If she only realized three days ago, before she had to nibble on half-rotten fish and onion strips, that she must bring food with her. If only she realized three days ago, before she stole away in the safe cover of night, that she needed a solid travel plan, because her white appearance made her a conspicuous target by day and night travel wasn't very safe. After only a few days she was starving and dizzy with fear and famish. If the young woman stayed, she knew she would starve or suffocate in the swarm of garbage hiding her; but if she turned herself in, her master would certainly beat her if not to death, and deprive of food anyway. The only choice she had was to leave the city. _Today_, she decided. _I must move today_.

---

Set's footfalls echoed against the stone chamber like drumbeats. His students shuffled along tiered benches, whispering quietly or impulsively twitching their quills against the papyrus sheets. Although the young men were the best rising scholars from Damascus to Kush, Set regarded them as peacockish fledglings who put more time in ornately knotting their sashes and tucking black heron feathers behind their ears. Once Set took his place at the podium the room quieted almost immediately.

"Today we conclude our study of the soul," he began, "with the aspect most directly impacting recent events: the _Ka_. Today's lecture is more practical than previous ones, but we begin first with theory. Define _Ka_." "The spirit, sir," a student in the front answered.

"Which is what?" Set countered. "I said 'define'."

"Sir, it is that which makes one unique from another," spoke another, a young Greek with blond hair. "Personality."

"You are thinking of _Ba_, Alexander, which I covered last time. Does anyone else wish to botch my lecture with another incorrect definition before I spoon feed it to you all?"

Virtually all the scholars' faces reddened with their usual fear of him, although one embarrassed pupil raised his hand tentatively. "L-life force, Your Honor."

"Yes. _Ka_ is Life Force." He wrote the hieroglyph on a long parchment tacked to a board, a pair of arms raised at parallel right angles. "That which distinguishes us, the living, from the dead. Meskhenet"--he wrote the hieroglyph and tapped it--"goddess of childbirth breaths _Ka_ into every man the instant he is born; one is dead when his _Ka_ has left the body. It rests in the _Ib_--for those of you I must remind again," he added sharply, "the _Ib _is the Heart. Although separate from the body, the _Ka_ requires sustenance as the body does: food, drink, and so on. It is known to us as the 'double image', or in other words, one's _Ka_ is an imprint of the individual. Speak," he permitted a scholar to ask a question.

"My Lord, some argue that the _Ka_ is a twin, or ghost. Is this true sir?"

Set lifted a bronze goblet at his right and drank some water. "It is an overstatement to say _Ka_ one's 'copy' or ghost. But we do know the _Ka_ is an aspect of immortal personality that functions with the _Ba _and _Akh_--even if the body dies, Life Force simply doesn't 'evaporate'. Therefore, if the _Ka_ is a distinct imprint, and if it is undying, it is certainly something of a double unique to whomever it belongs. Any more questions thus far?"

One of the youngest scholars asked, "What does a _Ka_ look like, sir…?"

"We'll get to that. First--understand the _Ka_'s relationship with the Heart. If I must remind those of you who don't know by now," he glared at Alexander, "The Heart controls emotion, thought, will, it houses the soul, and so on.

"If you have led a virtuous life, you possess a virtuous, light heart; if you have led an evil life, you possess a heavy and wicked heart. On the Day of Judgment, your Heart is weighed against the Feather of Ma'at, the justice goddess. If your Heart balances with the Feather, you enjoy paradise; if it is heavier than the Feather, it is consumed by the monster Ammit, and your _Ka_--your only existence left in the universe--is destroyed with the Heart."

"Therefore, in the case of a wicked man's Heart, what can be said of his _Ka_?" he demanded.

"The _Ka _is also wicked," a student in the back said, "because his Heart is wicked."

"Correct. The _Ka_ is wicked." He looked at the young scholar. "Which brings us to your question Bes: what does a Ka look like? Innovations in magic have allowed us to do what was impossible: project a human _Ka_." He went to the portals, where there was a long tassel rope hanging from the ceiling, and pulled it. Immediately after the call two slaves carried a figure wrapped in a white sheet on a panel board, and dropped it on the floor. The bang caused some of the scholars to jump in their tiers. Set beckoned them to move closer, and they swarmed around the lumpy white sheet with fear and interest.

"The specimen you are about to witness is a product of the Memphis Jailhouse," the High Priest explained as the scholars stared at the white sheet's presumed face. Its groans echoed against the walls. Some of the scholars were a little uneasy. Many reclined as far as space would allow, some could barely look and a few refused to look altogether.

"Queasy?" Set taunted. "Well now it's time to get your nose out of the books. Now!"

A slave whipped the sheet aside, exposing a heavily-chained individual lying on his back with his eyeballs thrust almost to the back of his head, exposing the bloodshot whites. His body was mutilated with bruises and his mouth was gagged with thick scarves. He should have been a corpse, but to their mounting horror, the man was _alive_. Most averted their eyes only when Set removed the ever-powerful Millennium Rod, and without a word the High Priest rapped its knobbed end against the criminal's forehead.

The chamber exploded into rays of light rivaling the sun god Horus himself, though its sudden burst (rather than its brightness) forcefully blinded everyone standing nearby. The man writhed in silent agony. Soon light was accompanied by sound, awful screams, then colors, a stench, all of which swirled into a hideous, bat-like beast screeching above their heads. Someone retched. Only Set looked into the creature's split-pupil eyes fearlessly. "A Bat _Ka_," he said coolly. "The subject has a history of theft and served a year in the Capital Jailhouse. He was a janitor in the Imperial Botanical Study until six months ago. How fitting, that a thief's _Ka_ should resemble a bat?"

He slashed the Rod's blade upwards and the monster was sucked into a concentrated pinpoint and faded out. All that was left of the man were his chains and white sheet. Everything went quiet, though not peaceful; the sight was too unnerving. Set glanced at the scholars contemptuously as he lowered his fist. "None of you may realize that _Ka _isn't half as bad as other specimens. While you fix your nose between scrolls, a demon has used sorcery to manipulate the _Ka_s of the basest individuals in the kingdom…"

Satis, one of the scholars in the back, tapped Alexander's shoulder. "We could get a good inside ticket to the High Priest's experiments if we found a good specimen," he said, rubbing his chin.

Alexander scoffed. "Look for lowlifes? In today's heat?"

"Why not? I've noticed the spike in arrests lately; the High Priest is looking for a strong _Ka_, I'm sure if it. If we find it for him, he will take us in his inner circle and we may become his disciples and learn the _real_ magic."

_Not a bad deal_, Alexander thought.

---

At high noon Piss Alley was baking. The young woman stumbled from her garbage shelter and into the streets, more fatigued by thirst than hunger or worry. The streets were packed today on top of the usual peddlers, curtained street merchants, donkey carts, and pedestrians. A few people she passed gave her putrid stares, but none bothered her. When she swallowed, her throat felt as dry as a papyrus sheet. She needed to get to the city gates, out of the city, and to the next town, but she would die of thirst before she took another step. _I must find a well_, she said. _But how am I to avoid the Capital Guard_?

There was a girl in the bazaar; the young woman asked her, "Do you have any water?" The little girl ran off and before long the young woman had to run away from the girl's mother, who screamed every unthinkable curse on her white complexion. The young woman's heart thundered; she grew desperate. In a few more minutes she would collapse and no one would help her, or she would be spotted by a Capital Guard, and that would be the end of her. As a last resort she searched for the alleys, but was so lost in the throng that she couldn't escape.

Suddenly a rough hand seized the back of her collar. "Help--!" she cried out, but the attacker violently jerked her back into his sturdy legs. Disgruntled pedestrians cursed the brute, whose grip kept her completely restrained more out of fear than strength. She whimpered.

"Satis! Take a look!" the attacker shouted. "Hey! Shut up you," he snapped at her.

The young woman squeezed her eyes in terror, while Alexander waved at Satis, who pushed past people and stumbled forward, out of breath. "What is it?" he panted, leaning over on his knees.

"Look what we have here!" Alexander said with amusement. "A little albino."

As the young woman expected from a typical Egyptian, Satis' face contorted in disgust and he raised his shawl to his face as though to protect himself from something contagious. "_Revolting_…"

But his Greek friend didn't have the same cultural aversion to her cursed kind. Alexander cuffed her collar with one fist and with the free hand jerked her bare forearm up. He noted the tiny brand on the young woman's transparent white skin, denoting her enslaved status. Satis took a precautionary step back, but Alexander noted, "A runaway, it seems. She's a specimen worth noting.... Let's haul her in."

"Are you MAD?!" Satis screamed.

"She looks okay to me," Alexander said.

"An albino? It is a cursed thing here. Whoever bought it must have been a starving peasant, because nobody wants to incur that kind of misfortune upon oneself. I'd rather drown myself than touch that thing. Leave it alone."

Alexander grew angry; they had been searching for hours in the heat and mosquitoes. He was not about to drop the young woman now. "If she is cursed, as you say, she is more likely to have an evil _Ka_," he said crossly.

"_We don't even know how to prove that yet_!" Satis yelled. "Have you ever extracted a _Ka_?"

Alexander raised his fist. "If I may remind you--!"

"Shut up!"

"IT WAS YOUR DAMN IDEA!"

An old woman pushed against Satis's shoulders and made her way through the crowd. "Watch where you're going! You're blocking everyone!"

"Sorry," the men apologized. Alexander looked around; for a minute he thought the young woman had run away, but she had merely fainted. He snapped at Satis to hand over his water pouch, which Satis grudgingly surrendered, and Alexander helped her drink water.

---

Chapter Three

The butcher Sobek had lived in the capital all his life, never venturing more than a few kilometres outside the capital. His forefathers had lived in Memphis for generations, as butchers, born with a meat cleaver and buried with a meat cleaver. He had a business less than half a kilometre from the palace's shadow, a seventeen-year-old wife, three sons, one daughter, a few Hebrew slaves, and a little profit from his exchange with some merchants he knew.

And it was this seemingly ordinary financial agreement that condemned him.

"Please!" Sobek through himself at the judge, his shackles quaking. It was a spectacle in the courtroom. "I beg of you," he pleaded. "P-p-please--I did not know they were stealing from the Royal Comptroller's house--_pleas_e_--_I did not know I was helping them!"

The magistrate flicked his hand lazily. "Guilty as charged. I sentence you to death. Guards--take this emotional wreck from my sight, immediately." The Court Guards dragged Sobek away, to the dungeons--not the courtyard where he would be roped and hung. _Might I be spared_? He hoped nervously. The led him through a complicated network of tunnels, rather like streets. Sobek pleaded with the guards to free him. They told him to shut up. He said he had a gold chain under his tunic; this time one of the guards knocked his head into the dungeon wall. They half dragged the disoriented butcher in a small, very dark chamber. Sobek barely made out a hazy figure standing above him, as he would soon be aware of the excruciating pain they applied to his body: mercilessly he felt a single force that broke his bones, peeled his skin away, slashed his face, seared the soles of his feet. The chamber magnified his screams, which escalated to blood-curdling decibels. Minutes passed, and there was nothing but pain; Sobek couldn't even want for paradise as he died.

Set wiped the blood from his sandals, surveying the still-twitching corpse with irritation. The guards waited for the High Priests say so before disposing of the body, but Set merely waved his hand dismissively and they understood this as an order. The dead man's _Ka_ was never projected, therefore, he was an innocent.

"Bring in the next one after you've disposed of that," Set ordered. "And a decent specimen this time!"

---

Stay tuned...


	3. Done in the Name of the King

**Done ****In the Name of the King**

"On a dark desert day in a land far away

You took my heart—that's the price that I pay….

Just remember the promise we made."

—"Didi"

Milk and Honey

German Arabic-pop group

---

As the intermediary between the Divine and Earthly the Pharaoh himself was nearly divine. The Pharaoh's Promenade alone would strike the common Egyptian as a staircase to heaven. Draped linen canopies swept overhead to protect him from the midday sun. The floor was tiled with the exotic stone called jade, which had been worked and carved into fine detail by craftsmen in the very far east. There were small palms, miniature date trees and flowers of every kind potted in brass containers, and a reflective pool at the center of the promenade to represent the Nile, which Atem could see afar from his gilt dais. The promenade wasn't very large, but certainly was an oasis.

Whenever Atem asked someone to visit him—no matter how informal the invite—his visitor had to follow strict protocol: kneel this many times, avoid eye contact, and address the pharaoh with full titled honorifics: "_Your Most Holy Excellency_ _My Sovereign_…" and so on, and so on, just as Akhenaden now addressed Atem on the King's private promenade.

Atem cut through the call by clapping his hands together. "Enough, Akhenaden," he said once the cloaked old man kissed his scarab ring. "Rise; you are too old to oblige yourself to silly rules."

In spite of his flaring arthritis, Akhenaden replied, "I wish I could give you more than my feeble praise, Your Majesty. I am unworthy of your generous hospitality." With the support of his staff, Akhenaden lifted himself to his feet and rested on a chair next to the King's.

Another slave carried a chair over and Akhenaden sat down; attendants served grapes, wine, without either man's command. The moment was awkward, and Atem itched for a conversation to start and honorifics to drop already.

"How are you, My Lord?"

Atem drank a little wine and folded his hands under his chin. "Hmmm. Admittedly, I am troubled," he confessed. "This Thief King has caused no great commotion since he intruded upon the Royal Court, but it only makes me wonder what he has in store."

"The Thief King will be crushed under Egypt's might. Evil cannot last for long," Akhenaden offered serious advice.

"Yes, well, my confidence lays in the aptitude of my advisors."

The remark intentionally meant to pressure Akhenaden, and it did, but his natural eye didn't blink. "Your Majesty's High Priest is intensively researching the possibilities he mentioned in the prospectus he sent you."

"And the others?"

"No progress yet as far as I know. But I am sure Set will come to a solution soon enough." _Because my son is brilliant_, Akhenaden thought, _and fit to be pharaoh himself. He _can_ deliver. He _will _deliver._

Just as the old man expected, his words smoothed the lines on the King's brow a little.

Atem trusted Akhenaden's word. He wished he could join Set in his research, just as he and Set used to compete with each other in their schooldays. But since Atem became pharaoh a few years ago, he was overwhelmed with religious and state duties, most of which he found unfulfilling. And the Thief King's looming presence only emphasized his lack of self-confidence. Did a _real_ King listen to Kushtic Court Bards recite poems for hours just so to encourage agricultural trade relations? No! _The last time I checked_, Atem thought, _THE Nubians didn't turn out nearly as much grain as Egypt did. If anything I should be seeking my enemy on the ground, with my men_—

"Your Majesty?"

The Pharaoh shook his head. "Forgive me--I was distracted. You were saying?"

"May I ask how is Her Honor the King's Great Wife?"

"My wife? Oh, yes, she is well." To be honest, Atem didn't see much of Vashti since they married. She spent most of her time in the harem.

Akhenaden drank a little more wine, then begged the Pharaoh's mercy for leaving. _Another stupid rule_, Atem thought as he said dismissively, "No, go, Akhenaden, don't let me keep you. Here"--Atem picked up Akhenaden's walking staff--"let me help you."

---

The butcher Sobek had lived in the capital all thirty years of his life, never venturing more than a few kilometres outside the city walls and never beyond the Nile's fertile reach. His forefathers had lived in Memphis for generations, as butchers, born with a meat cleaver and buried with a meat cleaver. He had a business less than half a kilometre from the palace's shadow, a seventeen-year-old wife, three sons, one daughter, a few Hebrew slaves, and a little profit from his exchange with some merchants he knew.

And it was this seemingly ordinary financial agreement that condemned him.

"Please!" Sobek through himself at the judge, his shackles quaking. It was a spectacle in the courtroom. "I beg of you," he pleaded. "P-p-please--I did not know they were stealing from the Royal Comptroller --I did not know I was helping them! It's their fault! YOU MUST BELIEVE ME! "

The magistrate flicked his hand lazily. "Guilty as charged. In the name of His Honorable Majesty The Pharaoh, you are condemned to die. Guards--take this emotional wreck from my sight, immediately." The Court Guards dragged Sobek away, to the dungeons--not the courtyard where he would be roped and hung. _Might I be spared_? He hoped nervously. The led him through a complicated network of tunnels, rather like streets. Sobek pleaded with the guards to free him. They told him to shut up. He said he had a gold chain under his tunic; this time one of the guards knocked his head into the dungeon wall.

They half dragged the disoriented butcher in a small, very dark chamber. Sobek barely made out a hazy figure standing above him, as he would soon be aware of the excruciating pain they applied to his body: mercilessly he felt a single force that broke his bones, peeled his skin away, slashed his face, seared the soles of his feet, and severed his tongue and hamstrings. The chamber magnified his screams, which escalated to blood-curdling decibels. Minutes passed, and there was nothing but pain; Sobek couldn't even ask for paradise as he died.

Set wiped the blood from his sandals, surveying the still-twitching corpse with irritation. The guards waited for the High Priest's command before disposing of the body, but Set merely waved his hand dismissively and they understood this to be an order.

He was an innocent. His _Ka_ never projected.

"Bring in the next one after you've disposed of that," Set ordered. "And a decent specimen this time! Test it before you bring it to me. If it survives, you bring it here."

---

The young woman woke up on cold, hard floor. She stirred dizzily and felt chains on her wrists. For some foolish reason she tried to break the chains, but they were all set. _I'm in jail_, she thought mournfully. The surrounding walls were dark. Others like here lay shackled against the walls or to solid metal globes. Aside from darkness, she could see nothing, and aside from pained groans, she could only hear the conversation of three rough-voiced guards.

"No more good hauls, eh?"

"Not since this mornin'," his partner replied. He spat; he did this a lot. "And that one died after a couple minutes, too. The High Priest says we oughtta test them first before bringing 'em to him. See if they're strong enough to fight back at least a minute or two, then send the specimen for extraction."

_Come again_?! The young woman panicked. It quickly became apparent—the chains, her barred cell, the darkness, the guards, the locks, the unfortunate souls like her—it all became apparent, even though she had few answers. She was in a worse place than Memphis Jail, or even a slave—she was a _specimen_, as much an item of study as a rock or some hybrid crop.

"What next?"

"The albino."

"To _test_ it?"

The most rough-voiced guard glared at the young woman, who huddled under the straw pile. "No. It's a bad omen; we even shouldn't bother to hand it over to Set, we should just kill it before it contaminates us even more." She heard the distinct _swish_ of a metal dagger.

"I agree."

"So do I."

The two other guards removed their daggers, while the third unlocked the bars. The young woman was so terrified she could barely think, let alone move; it was only until they got their hands on her that she began to fight. When the guards threatened to use their daggers she panicked. One of them cried out in pain; his dagger ended up thrust diagonally in his thigh. Now that their comrade was injured, the other two were less hesitant to touch an albino, but somehow the second guard was thrown across the cell to the opposite wall and lay unconscious; the third guard backed away in terror.

All she could think, _I'm in danger_, _I need to go_, _I need to get out of Memphis like I planned to do before_! The young woman fled. She didn't know her way out of this labyrinth, but she had to find escape. She ran into dead ends, past locked rooms, several unguarded cells deeper in the dungeon's cavities that were packed with helpless inmates like herself, who reached their hands out to her as she ran past. The young woman was too terrified to acknowledge their cries.

Every dead end and turn seemed the same. She tried a different way .Nothing. "I'm going in circles," she wept, turning back and running to nowhere again. _But I must hide_, she thought. The tunnels began circling now, she could better hear the echoes of other guards following her from behind. Petrified, the young woman turned down another corner and if she hadn't tripped, she wouldn't have seen a crevice in the wall. Without a second thought she groped inside and discovered there was a chamber. She fit one leg in, then the other, and without a thought thrust herself through the crevice.

The chamber turned out to be a chute, not a chamber—she slid through a narrow passage and feet-first into a bed of curtains. _Odd_, she thought. The room she was now in was one of the locked rooms she had passed a little while ago.

It was not much more brightly lit here, but it was quiet, and she was alone. The young woman slowly regained composure. Her heart stopped beating against her ribcage. Her muscles relaxed. She could breathe a little more calmly, although she was not completely calm.

Without warning, someone lifted the curtains she was buried in.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

---

Stay tuned!


	4. The Power of Words

"In proportion as I gain power over words, I shall lose dominion over sentiments…"

—Edgar Huntly in _Edgar Huntly: Memoirs of a Sleepwalker_

**---**

**The Power of Words**

**---**

His Majesty's palace operated like a machine fueled by information and loose tongues. Circuits of information ran from the kitchen to the Pharaoh's very throne, facilitated by an intricate network of spies. Generally spies were maids, valets, pages, all of whom were invisible and apparently unimportant to the people they served. Shada's own trusted informant cleaned toilet jars for a living. This morning, in Shada's closet, Mihos reported some very important news…

"_What information do you have for me, Mihos?" Shada demanded. The room was dark, and he could barely make out his spy's small, sharp-boned features._

"_Master, nothing more than the usual activity within the palace," the servant replied. "But there is a great deal of activity _outside_ its walls. Arrests have gone up in the capital and my sources tell me that arrests in the countryside have gone up too. Interestingly the palatial dungeons are nearly full to capacity, my Lord._"

"_Have you found out who is responsible for this?"_

Lo and behold, Shada's instincts were confirmed! The Gaurdian of the Millennium Key swept across the marble corridors of the palace and headed to the dungeons. Who _couldn't _have thought that Set was involved in this? Ever since the High Priest came to court five years ago Shada could never _quite _trust his colleague--_well_, that was not to say Set was wicked. It was just that the means by which Set rose from peasant to High Priest and Guardian of the Millennium Rod could only have been achieved by great ambition, and ambition, Shada knew, often corrupts the Heart and its intentions. As Shada passed the barred cells and the miserable-faced inmates, there was no doubt in him that Set's intentions were cruel. _What kind of backhanded methods is he using?_ He thought with outrage.

"My Lord, may we help you?"

Shada looked over his shoulder. Three guards stood behind him; one of them held a torch. They looked rather wary.

"Actually, you can," Shada told them. "Where is the High Priest?"

The most senior guard bowed. "Sir, I must be rude, but the Honorable High Priest is busy and is not receiving visitors at this--"

"I know his laboratory is down here," Shada cut through the guard. "You will take me there at once."

The guards exchanged hesitant glances; Shada could see deceit in them. Finally the senior guard grunted, "Take the Honorable Master there." Before long, the three of them arrived at Set's laboratory. It was a solid stone room fitted with massive bronze portals, watched by two sentries who Shada ignored as he pushed past them and burst through the portals. The High Priest was standing over a table strewn with scrolls. As the sight of his interruptions, he straightened his posture and snapped, "Shada, you had better have a hell of a good reason for disrupting my working and privacy. What's going on?"

"I should ask you," Shada said coldly. "Why are the palatial dungeons full all of a sudden? Why does their capacity exceed that of the Memphis Jail?"

As Shada expected, Set did not react with so much as a flinch. If anything, his expression was indifferent. "An interesting statistic," he replied evenly. "I am conducting my study."

"Does the pharaoh know about this?"

"Watch your tongue, Shada." Set's voice was colored with warning. "Do not suggest that I would act behind my master's back; I submitted a prospectus to His Majesty just as _you_ and the other Guardians have done, although my plan seems to be the only one that is moving ahead."

There was an awkward, rather tense silence. _Perhaps I have judged too quickly_, Shada reconciled. _If the Pharaoh knows, then surely everything here is approved._ But Set had a few answers before Shada released his suspicions. Nevertheless, Shada raised his hands in apology. "Forgive my offense. But you have yet to answer my question. Why have you rounded up the commoners?"

"It is from these specimens I shall assemble an army of strong Ka powerful enough to defeat Bakura."

"'Specimens,' you say? Is that what you call these innocent people?"

"Shada, the very reason I am doing all this is to protect the pharaoh and the citizens of Egypt. Take a look at them yourself! All are criminals if not _potential_ criminals. These are hardly 'innocent' people; I doubt one of their Hearts is fit to balance the Feather of Ma'at."

"That may be so, but—"

"And you can agree that at the very worst I am merely moving one step ahead of our justice system? Everyone wins."

_True_, Shada considered, but was it _ethical_? The doubt on his face must have been obvious, for Set added with mild sarcasm, "And do you know of any other significant plans to defeat Bakura?"

Shada could barely say the word. He chose not to. Set flipped open a scroll and began skimming the text. "Shada, you yourself must admit that at times one must do a little evil for a greater good. It is the nature of the gods. Osiris was butchered to death so that we may have an afterlife. The great rivers, the Tigris and the Euphrates, decimate all in their paths so that new life might spring again. And likewise we, not unlike those before us, must do the same. Is that not true?"

The answer was yes, but Shada could not speak even if he wanted to. In that moment, he was not sure whether or not to trust his fellow Guardian, and he hated to mistrust Set especially in these difficult times. The man was so different from the other Guardians; Shada always thought it had to do with Set's rise to power. Certainly the High Priest had a remarkable turn of phrase as well as industriousness and ambition, and certainly he needed a good way with words to accelerate himself to such a high-ranking position. Why, minutes before he was sure Set had committed some offense; now, Shada almost _sympathized_ with his colleague—he didn't know what to think anymore! Shada was speechless.

"You still doubt me," Set remarked. He walked past Shada and past the portals. "Come, we shall go to the cells. Take a good look for yourself."

Shada walked with Set through the dungeons, past the cells, once again surveying the shadows and shapes behind the bars. Indeed, he did not need the Millennium Key to feel the aura of evil dogging them; these people—the wretches—at least had the _potential_ to commit some heinous act, and their Hearts were impure. Shada did not feel it when he came down here because he was angry. _Perhaps Set is right_, he thought.

Just as he was about to apologize, Shada was interrupted by a great commotion down one of the dimly-lit tunnels. A few moments later two senior guards approached the Guardians and bowed. They said, "Honorable Lords, we must be rude by interrupting you, but a prisoner has escaped."

"Well then, what are you waiting for?" Set said with annoyance. "Capture the escaped immediately. If he should make himself apparent to the rest of the palace, all responsible will be heavily punished—including you!"

The guards scattered down the tunnels. "Yes sirs!" Their footfalls echoed heavily against the walls; Shada pitied whoever was in this dungeon. Every sound was a headache.

"As you see," Set explained grimly, "it is only a little evil for a greater good."

The phrase made Shada uncomfortable. "If you could explain your plans in greater detail that would be appreciated."

Set said he would later. The two men returned to the underground laboratory. As soon as they stepped past the portals, Shada felt tremors rumbling beneath his feet. The Millennium Key, safely strapped to his chest, glowed gold underneath his shawl. "Something is strongly present here," Shada muttered. "Do you not sense that?"

"The antechamber." Set pointed to a small wing connected to the main chamber. There was a faint light glimmering there.

Shada went inside; Set soon followed. The small room was empty except for a heap of curtains pitched in the corner, which, for some reason, the maids never a got a chance to tidy up. It was strange. What _thing_ was here? Shada approached the curtain pile.

"There is a secret passage, I know," Set remarked, pointing at a narrow chute placed high in the stone wall. "Someone has fallen through."

Their eyes fell on a shapeless figure beneath the curtains. They looked more closely; Shada's Millennium Key glowed intensely. He lifted it from behind his shawl and tentatively unlocked the hidden figure's secrets--certainly it was a human there, surprisingly a woman--and when he unlocked her soul, he saw the image of blazing white dragon come forth, burning its flaming gaze into his eyes and electrifying his brain. The pain was so sharp and intense that Shada cried out and stumbled backwards.

"Shada!" Set cried in alarm.

"It's--too much!" Shada grunted, locking her soul once more. "Too strong!"

He was actually on his knees, trying to catch his breath and overwhelmed with shock and a little fear. "This is your missing prisoner, I reckon," he panted.

"He--overwhelmed you," Set remarked with shock. "What did it look like?"

Shada laughed mirthlessly. "Well, _she_. It was a dragon."

Set's eyes widened. "Not a white dragon?"

"Yes. How did you know? Did you see it yourself?"

"Did it have blue eyes?"

"I did not get a good look at it," Shada said. "Perhaps it did."

---

_Perhaps it did_. Shada's description certainly fit the associations he had in mind— female, a white dragon…white dragon, a female… Many questions buzzed through his mind, so he stepped forward and whipped through the curtains, until the intruder was uncovered.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

The young woman was so frightened she leapt out of the pile and tried to run; Set caught her by the shoulders and said with more authority: "I said, who are you?"

He tilted her chin upwards with his forefinger, forcing her to look up, though she kept her eyes modestly lowered. The young woman trembled with fear as well as thrill. As soon as she glimpsed his face, she knew it was Seto. She thought he was beautiful. His olive face, though narrow was strong with its sharp, angular jaw and straight nose. She couldn't look at his eyes! Blue like hers, vivid though dark and they captivated her with his intense gaze. She knew him. She could never forget those eyes, even if they looked down on her with their upper-crust contempt, but it would be rude to broach the possibility of their past acquaintance now.

"Kisara, my Lord."

Set studied her closely, feeling both stunned and bewildered. Yes, this was the girl he saved in the desert all those years ago! And if he was correct, her Ka _was_ the monster that destroyed his home. She certainly looked like the girl—her hair was long and white, parted in the middle like curtains that swung around her peaked face. Her eyes were blue like his, but much lighter, and the pupils were dark red. Set was almost sure he was right. He tried to recall more details about the girl he saved.

"You are the prisoner who escaped. Feh. How did you manage such a feat, a sparrow like you." When she did not answer, he said firmly, "That was a question."

"I—I can't remember sir," she whispered.

"You can't remember?"

"I'm sorry."

"You have an accent. Where are you from?"

"I am from the marshes, sir, in Mesopotamia."

Set could barely make out her soft, lilting speech. She was from the marshy region in Mesopotamia that straddled the Tigris and Euphrates rivers, two fearsome beasts of nature that, unlike the Nile, decimated everything in its path. She would have spent her childhood bending reeds into primitive huts and so forth. If he remembered correctly, the young girl he met years ago had an accent. He could barely remember her voice: _Take care Seto_!_ I will repay you someday_!

"How did you come to Memphis, then?"

"I was sold into slavery, my Lord."

"When did you become a slave?"

"I think I was eight years old, sir."

"And you are now how old?"

"I think about twenty, sir."

"Who was your most recent master?"

Kisara flinched. She could only murmur, "Apis, the p-p-pig-farmer."

"Where does he live?"

"Just outside th-the c-city, my Lord."

"Did your work put you in contact with pigs?"

"Y-yes sir."

_Hmmm_, he thought. If she was going to stay in the laboratory, she would need to be cleaned. And, he would need to scour his hands well once he let her go.

Kisara whispered timidly, "Please don't return me to him."

"That is not my intention," Set assured her. "Why were you sold?" he demanded.

He felt her chin flinch under his thumb--either because of her timidity, or perhaps because of her defiance. "Because I am cursed, sir," she said softly.

In short, she was an albino. In Egypt as well as other places it was a curse to be born with the affliction the wretched girl had—drape-like hair as white as clouds, sky-blue eyes and skin so transparent Set could see her blue veins. Common Egyptians especially associated albinism with evil because the death god Set (for whom Set himself was named) had red hair and fair skin, and this girl was even lighter than that. It was not uncommon for one to hear stories about an albino being chased into the desert or made to roast their pale hides in the sun like pork flesh--for entertainment. But Set knew that albinos would be as magical as they could be wretched; no wonder Shada found her Ka to be so strong.

Set raised her chin a little higher and said, "Then we shall make something of your cursedness, shall we, Kisara?"

---

Chapter Five Preview:

_21__st__ Century_

_Domino, Japan_

Kaiba tapped his foot impatiently against the parquet floor. "Tell me this story gets to a point, _Scheherazade_," he said sarcastically.

"While you are still here," Isis retorted, "I advise you to sit."

"Feh. Like I'm going to stay for this nonsense," he snorted.

Isis could barely hold in her smile, although she was annoyed with Kaiba's petulance. "Just as you have stayed for the past hour and a half."


	5. To Know How She Feels

Much thanks for the positive, encouraging reviews. However, please leave more critical ones. If there is a particularly interesting or confusing point in the story, point it out in the reviews; specific feedback is really useful.

_---_

"You're a dandelion seed

That flies through the air

Then lands randomly

And disappears_."_

_--__Swingset Chain_, Loquat

---

**To Know How She Feels**

---

_21__st__ century_

_Domino, Japan_

After listening to Isis for about a half-hour, Set applauded mockingly, hardly believing that he had digested so much nonsensical information. "Very good, Scheherazade. Are you linking that albino what's-her-name to my Blue Eyes White Dragon cards? Is that the point? _Or_ should I say, is that the punch-line?"

"While you're _staying_"--Isis stressed her retort lightly--"I invite you to sit."

He glanced at his Rolex. "You think I'm staying to hear more of your prehistoric nonsense?"

Although Kaiba's petulance and stubbornness annoyed her, Isis could barely hold back her dry smile. He was just as hardheaded as his past self, as his present self would soon find out, although he would not understand now. _No_, she was thinking, unbeknownst to Kaiba, _I have not finished. I have just reached the tip of the iceberg_. "You're staying just have you have stayed for the past half-hour."

"Since when did I take orders from you? Anyways, you've run out of story to tell!" He spurned the tablet with a jab of his thumb. Isis had read all the hieroglyphs.

"I have run out of hieroglyphs, but not story. If you sat, you would be more comfortable." She tapped her finger on a button just below a museum placard. After a short pause, the wall bearing the great stone slab slowly dragged to the left. Behind it was a second wall, bearing a second tablet as long as the first and heavily written and painted upon as the first. Kaiba grunted in frustration, muttered something under his breath that Isis did not hear. She turned her eyes up to the hieroglyphs. The little symbols flipped through her mind like flipping pages in a book.

_How might can relate this story now_?

Taking a deep breath, she began once again.

---

_5,000 Years Ago_

_Memphis, Egypt_

Evening-time cooled very slowly again tonight, as the night goddess Nut arched her dark cover over the horizon. The sunset, however, was persistently intense. Seshat, matron of the High Priest's household staff, managed to catch a glimpse of it as she lit incense in their swinging brass censers. The sun sank in a layer of red, magenta, and dark gold, whose fading rays bathed everything the light touched. Mistress Antigone and Young Mistress Ma'at stood nearby, admiring the sight.

"The sun looks like a really big _perse_-man!" Little Ma'at trilled. "I like those."

Mistress Antigone laughed, and even Seshat smiled a little. Mistress Antigone corrected, "A persimmon. Yes, I know you like those. My husband says he made a breakthrough in his research today," she told Seshat.

"Then this sunset must be an auspicious sign indeed, my Lady," Seshat dutifully replied as she tried sparking a light with a flint.

"I think so too. Is it too late to move supper to the grand promenade so we might have a better view of the sky, is it too much trouble…?"

"Madam, whatever you ask it will be done."

Supper was moved to the grand promenade, one of the High Priest's most luxuriant chambers: it was a long, solid alabaster esplanade with giant, lotus-painted columns supporting a nearly panoramic view of the kingdom on either side. Seshat stood aside and supervised the maids as they served supper with her odd gaze. The right eye was normal and brown, the left was a colorful palate of amber, olive, and black flecks, but permanently and awkwardly tipped too far to the side. The left was nearly blind. Despite her handicap, Seshat's perception was as sharp as the goddess of wisdom, for whom she was named; and her observance was so hidden that the family didn't realize how carefully the Matron was listening to the meal conversation:

"What's this girl's name?" Mistress Antigone asked.

"Kisara." A young maid poured wine for Master Set.

A foreigner, Seshat thought. She waited for the master to confirm this fact, and he did. What he said next was more interesting: "When Shada unlocked her soul with his Millennium Key, he found a powerful Ka within her: a blue-eyed white dragon. It is an enormously powerful creature; I have seen it before."

The mistress looked puzzled. "There are other people with that Ka?"

"No, I don't mean I've seen others with that Ka. I have seen this monster before." Then the High Priest told her about an escapade in his early teens, when he freed a young girl from barbarians and she transformed into a white dragon. Mistress Antigone listened to the story between eating tangerine slices and wiping Ma'at's face. "She may be the best specimen I have yet," the master told her through the distractions. "I am keeping her for extensive observational study. She's staying in the general servants quarters, but I thought it might be more appropriate to hire her as a maid here." He soon added, "It would be more comfortable for her and it would still keep my research as private as possible. Since you're the mistress of the household, I wanted your thoughts."

_Her permission_, Seshat wordlessly corrected. Egyptian men of all classes left household decisions to their wives. Seshat understood why Master Set wanted to keep the girl in his household and away from other palatial servants. If the girl was evidence for his research, he would hardly want her to be an open opportunity for someone else to find and somehow interfere in his business. But why _casually_ suggest something he knew would require his wife's permission? In doing so he was moving into women's work, but he never did this before.

Mistress Antigone agreed. "Of course bring her. Ma'at needs her own maid now, anyway."

Seshat was still wary. What if this girl's strange powers made her cleverer than Seshat? What if this Kisara came to outdo Sehsat's twenty-five faithful years serving the palace, four of which were dedicated to the High Priest and his wife…? She would need to watch and wait.

---

After interrogating her for a few hours Set gave Kisara some instructions. He penned them on a roll of papyrus, looped it through his beryl ring, and told her to use it as a pass guaranteeing her entry and good treatment to forbidden areas. She would go to the general servants quarters, where they would give her food and drink, and a space to rest. (He also ordered her--to her great shame--to take a bath, and told her to do this first.) In the morning she would go this way, that way, and this way (he made her repeat after him until she merited the ways) until he came to his apartment. Once his wife gave consent (he seemed confident of that) and once Kisara had purified herself, she would join his household staff as a maid.

Kisara was overwhelmed with gratitude; she fell on her hunched elbows, crying over the High Priest's bronzed feat, but before she could kiss them he withdrew from her. "Just do as I say, girl," he reminded her sternly. "And make sure you talk to no one. If you have any problems, show them that scroll and they'll know who they're dealing with."

His words were bruising but could not dim his gesture of protection. The guards came and showed Kisara out of the dungeons. She found herself in a narrow passage that led her to the main palace: a heavenly abode compared to the horrors buried underneath it, decked with a solid marble floor, huge pillars painted with lotus-flowers and high ceilings. The guards were kind enough to tell her where the servants quarters were without jeering her. It was a small structure connected to the palace, with its own simple kitchens, bathhouses, and sleeping quarters.

As soon as Kisara walked past the doors of the servants quarters, people walking past her sneered or at least stared at her. She was too used to this behavior and too faint with hunger to notice. In the communal kitchen they were cooking something delicious, and when she too a look inside, she found people waiting for bread and soup. Although Seto had told her explicitly to wash first, Kisara was starving. She joined the line but many of those behind her were so offended they pushed past her. By the time it was her turn, she was overlooked and the young man behind her got a loaf. Miserable and now even hungrier, Kisara forgot about the bath and wandered into the women's sleeping rooms. It was large a simple space designed to displace heat with a dusty floor and a pile of canvas mats at the entrance. She took a canvas mat, wrapped it around her so that her body was not visible, and huddled in a corner. Maybe nobody would notice her here when they finished their meal and went to bed.

Kisara twisted her moon-white hair with her slender fingers as delight pumped from her heart through her veins. How the gods loved her! They guided her to the kindest man she had ever met, the only person who cared for her this way, and they sent her to him when she most needed him. She thanked them for their mercy, and she thanked Set. When they first met he risked his life to save her from the barbarians; now as High Priest, he freed her from slavery a second time, and even offered her a position in his household staff! He must love her. He was so kind to her, he must love her.

Her delight slowly faded into doubt as she fell asleep. He was probably married, and knowing him (well, she didn't _really_ know him now that she thought about it) he might love this woman. Even if he didn't love his wife, why would he love a slave (well, ex-slave now) moreover, an _albino_ slave? If anything, he was just generous.

_Maybe it's not even because of generosity that he saved me_, she thought grimly, tucking the scroll to her stomach. _All those other poor people are trapped in that horrible dungeon. Why are they not freed_? She remembered what he told her earlier today, when she said she was a cursed albino.

"_Well, we shall make something of your cursedness, shall we, Kisara?"_

Kisara's heart hardened in anticipation of another disappointment, in another foolish attempt to trust someone who meant no good for her. She did not know why he raised her up, but it made her like him much less and fear him more.

---

Before the sun came up Kisara crept around the limp feet and far-flung hands of the other women sleeping in the room. She went to the bathhouse, but it was still so dark that she didn't tidy herself well. Not long after she started putting her clothes, a young man stumbled into the room and she set off to the main palace.

Using Set's instructions as a map she found her way to the High Priest's guarded chambers. The sentries sneered at her, but when she showed them the scroll and the ring, they reluctantly admitted her past the checkpoint. Kisara gently knocked on one of the portals, like those in the High Priest's laboratory, which were soon swung open by a matronly woman on the threshold. Her gaze was critical, though not disgusted. "Who are you?" the woman demanded. "What is your business here?"

"I-I'm Kisara… The Honorable High Priest sent me--" Kisara lifted her scroll.

The woman straightened her posture and took the scroll, which she then stuffed under her patterned shawl. "Oh. You've been expected, but not so soon, and not in your…present appearance."

Kisara looked at her feet, feeling terribly foolish. Her hair wasn't so tangled, but it was peppered with dust from laying on the floor with the canvas mat, and her skin was still caked with grime, dirt, and stink. Her only clothing was a man's old hemp tunic, whose short length was practical for the slave of a pig-farmer but too revealing for a palatial servant.

"Seshat? Who's at the door?" someone called from inside.

The woman Seshat glanced over her shoulder, flipping her long braid behind her, then sighed with annoyance. "There's no time to make you ready. Come and meet your new mistress." She led Kisara into the vestibule, which like the rest of the palace, was spacious and richly decorated. She who Kisara would call 'Mistress' was sitting on a chaise lounge, with her legs demurely crossed and her arms folded over her la Kisara did not get to see much more than that and the woman's feet as she sank in a humble bow.

"Honorable Lady," she spoke tremblingly, "thank you for taking me as your lowly, faithful servant."

"Please get up."

Kisara rose to her knees, not her feet.

"If anything your destiny and merit led you here. My _husband_ is the one that noticed you; I'm sure you're very diligent and smart." Mistress Antigone's soft hands lifted Kisara's face upwards, so that Kisara had no choice but to face her new mistress's gaze directly. "You may call me Antigone."

"Y-y-yes, Mistress Antigone."

"Are you all right?"

"Madam--I'm sorry--I am unclean, you shouldn't touch me."

"Oh, don't worry about that. I should've asked Seshat beforehand to arrange a bath and some clothes for you. Will you now do this for me, Seshat? Good. After that, we can have a tour of the palace together, meet your new young mistress, and have breakfast. Shall we?"

Kisara might have asked for breakfast first, but this was a more generous welcome than she deserved. She followed Seshat to the common bath area, scoured herself clean with animal fat soap and olive oil. After she was done, Seshat brought her new clothes. In fact, they were the first decent clothes Kisara ever owned: a hip wrap, strapless linen shift, and a shawl patterned with white, black, and red geometric shapes. Seshat gave her a looking-glass, and for once Kisara had could admire herself. When Mistress Antigone saw her again, the mistress said, "You look very beautiful."

Kisara hunched her shoulders and shuddered. "I'm no such thing, Honorable Lady." _How could a woman as beautiful as she call me beautiful_? She thought miserably, thinking of her twig-like legs, bony face and boyish figure. On the other hand Antigone was glowing, voluptuous, confident, amongst other things…no wonder the High Priest married her.

Antigone looked puzzled. "You don't think so? I have something to show you. Follow me."

They walked together to the master and mistress's bedroom, which was filled with beautiful things. Kisara squinted as she glanced at the balcony, which faced a vivid early sunset. Their bed was raised high above the floors on a cedar frame, laid under a mattress and pillows that looked so soft they might have been clouds. Across from the master's desk was Mistress Antigone's vanity, whose tabletop was filled with dozens of alabaster bottles and ornately-carved boxes. Kisara could smell the rich oils and perfumes, which must have spilled on the tabletop once in a while. Mistress Antigone lifted a leather-covered box from the floor, made space for it on the tabletop, and opened it so that Kisara could see the splendid gold jewelry inside.

"What do you think, Kisara?"

"They're lovely, Honorable Lady." Then she blurted, "Are they presents from Master Set?" As soon as she let it out, she clapped her hands over her mouth. "Oh dear gods, forgive my rudeness--"

"No, that's all right--most of them are actually gifts from my husband. Those bronze ones I've had for a while, but I don't need any of them. Go on and choose what you like."

Kisara froze with shock. "Madam, you're too kind." She waved her hands vehemently. "I'm so sorry, but I can't accept them."

"Why not? I want you to have it."

"I haven't even earned my first meal here yet."

"But it's a gift. Why not take it?"

Kisara felt suspicious, although she didn't know why she should feel that way. The mistress was kind, her offer was sincere. But since when did noblewomen see to it that their maids were washed and given new clothes? When did they casually pass on old jewelry to their maids, like the way mothers passed jewelry to their daughters? Kisara blurted all these thoughts to her mistress, since the woman was looking for an answer.

After a few seconds Antigone responded. "I'm not a real noblewoman you know."

"No?"

"I'm just a commoner who married up. Well, very high up. My mother was from Kush"--Egyptians southern neighbor--"and my father was the son of a Kushite and a Greek. Both were potters. They had four children--me, my two older sisters and younger brother.

"My parents artistic talents eventually led them to the palace. They were commissioned to make pottery for the court under the old pharaoh. It was a very high honor, and they hoped to use their insider status to arrange palatial jobs for us, in areas where they thought we could hone our talents become even more successful than themselves. My younger brother became an apprentice in the Pharaoh's temple. My older sisters and I were to be trained as court dancers. My parents had more hope for my brother's success than for me and my sisters' success; and they had higher hopes for my sisters than they did for me. I was five years old.

"But nothing went as they expected. Those years were so difficult. I can't even tell you what happened to my poor brother, but the experience drove him crazy. The before day he was supposed to be initiated into the assistant priesthood, he got up, fled to the desert, and we never saw him again. My parents were devastated, so they pushed us harder. My sisters and I were overwhelmed. The year after Taharqa ran off my oldest sister Arcadia was so overworked that she became dangerously sick; she had a tumor, and the dancing made it worse. She died before a doctor could treat her.

"When my second older sister Callisto was fifteen, she fell in love with a servant who worked in the palace. After that she stopped practicing and would skip rehearsals to meet him. Our trainers beat her and our parents threatened to disown her, but it was no use. Callisto wasn't very interested in dancing and my parents were grateful enough to have two living children, so my father let my sister marry the boy.

"I was the last one left in the palace by this time. (My parents were forced to retire from the pottery work.) It wasn't long before I questioned why I was still there. I thought, _I'm fifteen, I'm young, and if I want to do something I should do it now_. My parents were in their mid-thirties and aging fast; Taharqa disappeared in the wilderness and probably died there; Arcadia succumbed miserably to illness; but Callisto was not only living but happily married and pregnant. At least she turned out happy. I also knew that dancers _could_ become famous, but usually once you became a starlet it's not long before you start aging and need to retire into obscurity. I didn't even know why I wanted stay with the court dancers if I didn't choose to be put there, but for some reason I ignored my parents' pleas to return home and joined the troupe."

"My decision paid off. To my family's shock I became the one who made it. By the time I was eighteen I had lead roles for court performances. My husband actually noticed me at a court performance, and five months later we got married. That was four years ago; now am here, in"--she gestured around the spacious room--"why, in all this."

"So what I'm trying to say is," Antigone finished, "I will never know exactly how you feel, but I do know how it feels when people think you are less than what you are, and I know what suffering is. My husband saw in you a good spirit, and I see that in you as well. So please, see me less as your mistress than as your guide, and take the bracelets you've been looking at all this time."

Kisara looked away from the box in surprise, feeling tears well in her eyes. She quietly thanked her new mistress and collected the jewelry. "Thank-you, Honorable Lady," she whispered.

"Just as it was possible for me to succeed, so it is possible for you."

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_Chapter Six: Stay tuned!_

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